


a string somewhere under my left ribs

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a quiet moment, Cullen braids Lavellan's hair. Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a string somewhere under my left ribs

“I used to do this for my sister,” he says, as he runs the brush through her hair. “She could easily do it herself, but she said it felt nice to have someone else do it sometimes.” 

Humming encouragingly, Lavellan sits still between Cullen’s legs. 

“My brothers were hopeless, but I always found it soothing.” Gently, he works through the tangles left over from a night in his bed. “I missed doing this- I hadn’t realized it.” 

Lavellan’s mind drifts as she enjoys the sensation, the way the bristles scratched gently against her scalp and the tugging on her hair. 

Cullen does one final pass, brushing from forehead to the back of her neck, gathering her hair and letting it fall over one shoulder. Lavellan moves to get up- bracing herself to face the day, to break this quiet moment between the two of them. His hands fall to her shoulders, and she stills. 

“Do you want me to braid it?” 

“Commander, are you saying that in addition to knowing how to brush long hair, your lover’s hair, you can braid it? I’m sure the barracks would love to hear that. Before long they’d be saying all sorts of things.” 

“I’m sure my command would be ruined,” he says dryly. “No one would speak of anything else for months, no matter what other tidbit of interesting gossip comes up.” 

She laughs, and it’s a full throated laugh from her stomach, loosening the tension in her frame. “By all means, commander, if you’re willing to risk your fearsome reputation. I would love to have my hair braided.”

Grinning, Lavellan relaxes back against him, revelling in the warmth of his chest against her back. He was a furnace- she loved him dearly, but even if she didn’t she would have shared his bed just for the way he kept the cold at bay. She knew he’d tease her about her sensitive northern disposition, and she’d have to say something about Fereldens. Sighing, she ponders it while he resumes brushing out her hair. 

Cullen splits a section of her hair off from the rest, and begins to pull her hair over and under itself. She feels the way his hands are steady and confident. He really does know what he’s doing, or at least he feels he does. She’ll see the results when he’s finished. 

His breathing slows as he focuses on her hair, determined that there not be a strand out of place.

She picks up their conversation, talking to him with no real expectation of getting an answer back- it would break his concentration, and if there was one thing Cullen could be counted on to do it was to give his entire attention to her. 

“In my clan, my friends and I used to braid each other's hair. I was always hopeless at it- I could do a basic braid, but my friend Rillian used to make art out of our hair.” Memories brought themselves to the forefront of her mind and Lavellan smiles wistfully. “Whatever she fancied at the time. One time she spent hours on Mahanon's hair—he always had the longest hair of all of us—braiding all of it into the tiniest braids you can imagine. When she was done, she bound it into a horsetail. It was so well done that it lasted for days, and he was the envy of all us.”

Cullen chuckles, surprising her. “I hope I can live up to your standards— I doubt I can manage anything complicated. My sister was usually pleased with my efforts, but we were children then.”

They sit together in silence, enjoying the intimacy.

Finally, he declares the project done. “I’m not sure how long it will hold up mind, or how well you think it looks.” 

Lavellan twists in his lap to peck him on the lips. “Thank you. I'm sure it's beautiful.”

“Your hair could never be anything different.” He fidgets. “One of my officers was wearing her hair in one of those Orlesian braids the other day- I thought it might suit you. And it's very practical- won't get in your face when you're hacking at demons.”

Grinning Lavellan gets up, tugging him to his feet. “A proper kiss from you, before we go face down Josephine about whatever grievances people lay at my feet today.” 

His hands fall to rest on her hips and she leans into his touch. He drops his face down to hers, nuzzling her nose with his, before kissing her long and slow and sweet. 

He kisses her like she’s the only thing in his world and she wants to spend years kissing him. 

She’s just going to have to save the world.


End file.
